If Only In My Dreams
by captaincoulson18
Summary: It's 7:59 on Christmas eve and Peggy Carter sits alone, waiting for a man who will never come. (One-shot/Song-fic set after the end of Captain America)


I recommend reading while listening to Frank Sinatra's "I'll be home for Christmas." Originally this piece contained lyrics, but I could not write them on here without violating some sort of copyright :(

* * *

It's Christmas Eve, and Peggy Carter sits alone at a table in the Swan Room, waiting. It's Saturday night, 7:59. _He should be here by now_, she thinks. _He promised_. The singer accompanying the band in the corner is softly crooning Christmas songs. A few couples are swaying back and forth on the dance floor. They stare into each other's eyes as the lights decorating the tree in the center of the floor flicker and twinkle. Cigarette smoke leaves a heavy fog over the room, making it look like a dream instead of a reality.

The clock hanging over the bar strikes 8:00. Without meaning to, Peggy's eyes dart from the couples to the door. But of course, no one's there. She doesn't even know why she came. She knows full well he won't be here. Even though he promised. Promises can be broken. But somehow Peggy thought he would deliver. It was just who he is _/was/._

She stares at her drink. _What did I even order? Something strong_, she remembers. She hasn't even touched it yet, but somehow Peggy feels like she's already drunk. The song ends and the singer calls out: "Now this is for all you soldiers who are home for the holidays!" _And what about the ones who aren't?_ Peggy can't help but think to herself. _What about the ones who will never come home?_ She feels like screaming at the singer and punching him in his over-cosmeticized face, but she controls herself. Stupid singer, she thinks.

A soft melody begins to play. The lyrics are being sung in a minor key, making them sound almost eerie. It doesn't sound like the usual cheesy-as hell fare that Christmas usually brings.

_The song is "I'll Be Home For Christmas," and as the man sang it Peggy was sucked into memories of the man she waited for..._

He had always been so reliable. He would come through no matter what mission you gave him. _The star-spangled man with a plan_, they called him. His strength and goodness never wavered. Hell, he couldn't even get drunk. Always loyal, always true to his word. Except tonight. Except for her.

It wasn't fair. You could always count on him, but the minute she needed him, he was nowhere to be found. Peggy knew she sounded terrible. He had to do what he did. To ensure the happiness of millions of innocent people he had to sacrifice himself.

But what about her happiness? Didn't she deserve his loyalty too? Why was it his promise to her was the only one he couldn't keep? Why did he have to be such a damn martyr? She really should have known though. He was a soldier. He had to be ready to die at any instant for the sake of his country. But still, Peggy thought, couldn't he have known how much what he did would hurt her? Was he that much of a moron? Did he even really feel anything toward her at all? If he had, then why did he give her up to save everyone else?

If he had really felt anything toward her, Peggy thought, then surely he could have found some other way to….Peggy stopped herself. She was being selfish and awful and she knew it. What she was saying was nonsense. She should be grateful. He wasn't just saving the world when he sacrificed himself, he was saving her too. He died to protect her; so she could move on and live a happy, Nazi and H.Y.D.R.A. free life. But didn't he know she would never be happy without him?

_The next verse began, something about snow and miseletoe and presents under the tree_

Peggy remembered how they had spent months at the secret base in Germany. It was always snowy and cold there. But it wasn't like Peggy cared. She had grown up in England, and was glad that it was snowy and cold instead of wet and cold. Peggy recalled one night, only a month ago,

/really a month? it feels like years and years and years/

when he had offered to walk her back to her quarters after a late night strategy meeting. It had been especially dark and cold that night, and the snow-covered everything like a thick woolen blanket. Peggy didn't know why, but suddenly she had picked up some snow, fashioned it into a ball, and thrown it at him. He whirled around. "Hey! What was that for?" He said, feigning smiled deviously.

"What? In America don't you have snowball fights?"

His hurt expression melted into a sly grin to match hers. Before long they were both pelting each other with balls of cold snow. It was a welcome break from the stiff, depressing business of waging war, and the fear of dying that every day seemed to bring. Eventually, as common with a man just recently having been given 10 times his body muscle mass, he forgot his own strength. He threw one of his projectiles a bit to hard and it hit Peggy square in the chest and she fell back into the snow.

"Peggy!" he cried, and ran over to her. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Don't worry, I'm okay." She said, as he helped her to her feet.

He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, sometimes I forget the whole 'I'm a super soldier created by the government to kill Nazis' thing."

She laughed, but as she stood up fully, became aware of how cold and wet she was. Involuntarily, she began to shiver. When he saw this, he took his jacket off and draped it across her shoulders.

"Stop it." She said, trying to get the jacket off. "I'm not a damsel in distress who needs to be saved from the big bad cold by Prince Charming. Plus, you're the worlds superhero, you can't freeze to death."

"Don't worry," he said, "The serum has made me pretty numb to the cold. Plus, I never said you were a little girl in distress, or whatever you called yourself. I just see you as one of my good friend who needs a dry jacket. You can keep it, too; your other jacket probably won't dry in time for you to wear it tomorrow. Think of it as a very early Christmas present."

_Idiot, She thought to herself now. I don't want your old jacket for Christmas. I want you._

_The singer crooned something about lovelight gleaming, and Peggy was pushed back into her thoughts..._

Do I love him? Peggy thought to herself suddenly. She didn't want to. He was such an idiot, always so idealistic and innocent to the point of stupidity. _/fonduing, what an idiot/_

But maybe that's what she had loved about him. How pure he was. And how humble. Because really, underneath that suit and those muscles he would really always be a skinny kid from Brooklyn who got beat up in alleys, and he knew it. He really was a true hero. Even willing to sacrifice himself, not just for the innocents and for people he loved, but for people who were jerks to him. She had seen it firsthand when he had been in training. He had thrown himself on that grenade they had thought was real, hoping to absorb the majority of the impact so his teammates (most of whom had been jerks to him) could be safe. Many would later call him an idiot. She called him noble. It was in that moment that Peggy could say she felt something. Something like a spark. It was tiny, but it was there. Even though he was puny and weak outside, inside, his soul was stronger than the bulkiest man there. That was the first time, Peggy realized, that she was given any sort or clue that she loved him.

Maybe she'd tried to hide it, and maybe she hated herself for it, but it was there. How could it not be there? She thought. Why would then seeing him necking with that other woman hurt so much?

She then thought that she must have known when she had looked into his eyes after he had raided the prison camp. She had worried about him the entire time, and finally seeing him so triumphant and strong made happiness well inside her. And if she hadn't been in love with him, then how could that one little kiss they shared right before he went down have felt so special. She didn't know (and would never know) how it had felt to him, but to her it had felt like the cold wind rushing around her had suddenly become 2000 degrees hotter and that there was electricity rushing up and down her spine. It had felt like forever, when in reality it had only been a few seconds. It was nothing like any of the other kisses she had had before. Yes Peggy thought, she was definitely in love with him. As much pain as she knew it would bring her, there was no denying it.

_The singer takes a deep breathe in preparation for the final verse, finally belting out that he will be home for Christmas..._

_Liar_, she thought to herself. He would never be home for Christmas. As much as Howard Stark wanted to believe that he was alive somewhere in that ice, she had to resign herself to the fact that he was gone. It would hurt too much if she didn't.

_The singer finishes the song on an ominous note, saying that he might only be home in his dreams..._

Peggy would see him again, she knew. Actually, she'd see him again tonight, as soon as she closed her eyes. He was there, haunting her dreams. For the past weeks since the incident her dreams were only him, calling for her at the end of a tunnel. _Peggy! Peggy! Come see me! I'm here!_ She tried to run to him, but every time she'd come close, she'd fall and be brought back to the start. _I'll see him this Christmas alright_, she thought, _but only in my dreams_.

The music began to fade as the song ended and applause broke out through the room. No one heard Peggy Carter start to cry. She covered her face with her hands, not noticing the tears rolling off them into her drink. G-d's honest truth though, she wouldn't have cared. She tried to wipe the tears away, and finally reached for her drink. G-d, she needed it. She poured it down her throat, her grief making her numb to its sting. She drained it quickly and slammed it down on the table. She continued to sob, despite the drink.

"Merry Christmas, Peggy Carter." Peggy's eyes opened wide, and they swept across the room. Where had that voice come from? It had sounded so much like him...it had even given her that warm feeling inside. Maybe he really was…but soon Peggy realized that there really was no sign of him in the room. It must have been a cruel delusion. Still, she couldn't help but whisper back.

"Merry Christmas, Steve Rogers."


End file.
